


Apologies

by SolidVACUJ



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Benrey uses they/them, M/M, Mental Illness, Video Game Logic, hlvrai but they were roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolidVACUJ/pseuds/SolidVACUJ
Summary: After the game, there isn't much left. Gordon feels lost, his apartment ragged, his mental health shattering.Until his best frenemy comes back from the dead.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 33
Kudos: 95





	1. Post Mortem Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> no proof reading we live and die like gods

"Ok." Gordon Freeman mumbles, sitting loosely on his raggedy old couch. An old, previously dead friend-turned-enemy sits in front of the TV across from him, stoically holding a cup of coffee that they have refused to drink. It isn't like Gordon didn't make it specifically for them, he has his own cup sitting right there, but the fact that they haven't even bothered to take a drink after Gordon brought them a cup is pissing him off. Not to mention the other shit that lingers in the room, other little agitations that go from minor to major. 

Examples such as getting your arm cut off. That one might be major. 

"bbbrughhh" Benrey rolls their head back, looking off at nothing. Their stupid security guard uniform is in tatters, which feels just a bit wrong. In Black Mesa even the stains would disappear eventually, but why now does it look like trauma lingered? Was it because of the boss fight? Gordon looks at a bloody tear on Benrey's right arm and wonders. 

"You came to me." Gordon says sternly. "You want to be friends again. So," Gordon pauses, watching Benrey roll their head off to the side. "Talk." He tries to make it sound like a finality. He can hardly ever take Benrey seriously, though. Even when they were trying to kill each other he still found times to laugh between screams. 

"whatta bout" Benrey says dismissively, finally taking a drink of that coffee. It pisses Gordon off though, because it's lukewarm now. Why wait until the coffee is bad to drink it? 

"You-" Gordon feels his temper rise, that same irritation coming back. He always feels the need to play this game with Benrey, one where Benrey escalates his annoyances while Gordon reacts with increasing amounts of anger. Not necessarily a serious anger, he remembers for a long time that he enjoyed their little playful bouts. But then it got more serious. "You know what I'm talking about." Gordon crosses his arms as he rests himself against his cushions. It feels awkward to have Benrey here.

"huh?" Benrey says, then takes a loud, obnoxious slurp of his coffee. They draw it out, too, and they keep an eye on Gordon's expression over the cup. They definitely see Gordon's shoulders jolt with suppressed laughter, his mouth turned up. It's familiar, the kind of familiarity that makes Benrey feel like a friend. Even though they are- on most accounts- enemies more than friends, it still feels fine to laugh and relax. Gordon knows that relaxing around him is stupid, though. He has plenty of evidence to support that. 

"The boss fight. The- you fucking know- trying to _kill us,_ maybe?" Gordon takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes. Benrey smacks their lips for a moment, squinting right above Gordon's head like they're lost in thought. Their eyes open upon 'remembering' and they let out a quiet hum.

"oh hey. yeah." Benrey says. They tilt the rest of the coffee into their mouth and hold the cup above the table for a moment. "no fucking. coasters. gordon nastyman looking to get- to make his table nasty." Their voice is void of actual disappointment, but they sit the cup down gingerly. Slowly, maybe to make Gordon roll his eyes and snort again, which _totally_ doesn't work. 

"Well?" Gordon prompts. This makes Benrey pause, looking up at him. It's more serious than every other expression that Benrey's ever had, if Gordon is remembering right. More serious than his dissociating anxiety filled Black Mesa brain remembers, anyway. Their eyes are sharp, their mouth held in a barely there frown. It's different than their faux innocent smile or their deadpan apathy, so it makes Gordon feel stuck in place. The two of them hold tense contact for just a moment, before Benrey blinks and looks away. 

"i dunno what to tell you, man. not human. i dont work the same." Benrey tilts their head to the side, cracking their neck. Gordon huffs, leaning back. 

"That doesn't really give me any answers." Gordon scowls, brows knit together. He knows he shouldn't be trying this hard, but-- but it's Benrey. The person sitting across from him, who showed up again out of the blue in a movie theater's bathroom of all places, has carved his way into Gordon's life. He can't leave behind his- the team's Benrey.

"i guess-" Benrey cuts themself off, looking down at their crossed legs. "i dunno." They deflect again, looking like they definitely do know but don't want to say. 

"Look," Gordon starts, "I just want to know why. I don't know if I'll ever forgive you, or anything, but." Gordon feels that knot in his throat, the same one that always bubbles up when he thinks about Benrey too much. Benrey peeks back up and that contact is re-established for only a second, wordless communication filtering through still air. Gordon is reaching out an olive branch, trying to bring Benrey back in. He knows that it's stupid-- he feels like an idiot for doing it. This person hurt him, he hurt the science team, but. It's Benrey. 

"urrrrrrrrrrrgh." Benrey rolls their head back, letting out black bubbles of sweet voice. Gordon can't read it, but he doesn't need much context to assume that black must be negative. "ok. i guess." Benrey leans forward again, fidgeting their hands together. 

"s all. like im not human, right? and everyone dies but they come back. important people do." Benrey says, still not looking up. They think better when they aren't looking at others. "s a game. all of it. and its all-- dumb code and respawn." Benrey leans to the side, looking off at Gordon's off-white walls.

"doesnt hurt anyone. you cant get hurt in a game." Benrey mumbles. "right? if i shoot you you dont feel it. you just lose hp. so why bother? if im in the game and i feel like shooting, why wouldnt i shoot?" Benrey has a piece of their tattered security vest between their fingers, playing with it.

"But I did feel it. I felt a lot, actually!" Gordon barely tries to keep venom out of his voice. Thankfully Benrey never reacts to anything, so they don't even flinch at the soured tone. "You cut off my arm, and it hurt. A lot!" Gordon emphasizes, raising his prosthetic like it's a trophy. Benrey looks passively to it, eyes unfeeling as they hover over where his arm used to be. It makes Gordon's heart leap, for some stupid reason, to think that Benrey is paying attention to everything he's saying. It also pisses him off for obvious reasons, because they're barely emoting at the sight of the arm they helped get cut off. 

"that was different. that was a uh. scripted event." Benrey rolls their head forward, looking down at the hands still fidgeting in their lap. "i was gonna be bad no matter what, and i always knew i would be, so that just. happened. was gonna happen no matter what because game, but me being in it was because you wanted me to be bad." Benrey is hunched over themself, wiggling a bloodied piece of cloth between their hands. It makes Gordon wonder whose blood that is. He would wonder if Benrey bleeds, but he has plenty proof that they do. 

"I never wanted you to be bad. I never wanted anyone to be bad!" Gordon's voice gets louder before he forces himself to calm down. He needs to stay at least semi-rational during this. "I just wanted us- all of us, including you- to get out of Black Mesa." Gordon says. Benrey peers up at him when Gordon mentions them, but they look down just as quickly. A ghost of an expression, one that barely happened at all, makes Gordon wonder if they were shocked at their inclusion.

"no it was. video game stuff, mega colonel brain genius." Benrey sits up, looking off past Gordon's shoulder. "someone had to be bad. thats how games work, mr gordumb brainman." Benrey stands, their fidgeting left behind. Their expression is completely passive once again, their eyes scanning the apartment. Beyond the empty containers of old food and empty bottles, there isn't much to look at. 

"But you didn't need to be bad! You were part of the team!" Gordon stands with them, flailing his hands to prove a point. Benrey's eyes flick to him again, a twitch of their lips, before they wander off somewhere to bother something else. Their boots clunk against the floor, eyes off anywhere other than Gordon. 

There is a gap between them.


	2. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for derealization on gordon's part (i think thats the right word to use, at least)

The apartment is dark. At night, Gordon feels the dark invade every crevice of his body. When the lights go out it feels instant, like it shoots itself into his core. The curtains are drawn, only pale moonlight filtering in, revealing the piles of depression trash Gordon left behind. It leaks into his consciousness and makes him wonder how he never felt it so fiercely before. The only hall feels eternal, and it suffocates him to think that he'd have to walk it at night. He should try to avoid it, to keep himself sane, but.

Once the sun sets, Benrey accosts the guest bedroom. Gordon hasn't tried to open the door since Benrey moved in, a couple days after they returned from whatever purgatory dying had left them. They had just found their way in and assumed that they were still friends. They had talked. Benrey took their place, further cementing themself into Gordon's daily life. 

They rarely found themselves talking after that. The explanation had left much to be desired, especially considering that Benrey hadn't made much sense, but somehow it left Gordon feeling satisfied. Somewhat, at least. Maybe he'd just never understand Benrey, but they had tried to make themself understood. There had been a small amount of effort before they wandered off, and that means something to Gordon. Even if, in the end, he still never got that apology. Maybe he never would? Fuck, who knows. 

Benrey locks themself in their room. After they found a console, they come out even less. Gordon hears games going 24/7, a streak of blue light always coming from under the door. Benrey's voice never comes, and Gordon imagines them sitting in front of the dusty television with the same blank expression they always carry. It makes Gordon feel desperate in several ways, all tangled together in his chest. It stings, but it's also thrilling, but it's especially annoying. 

It's become an ingrained part of the atmosphere, which is smothering. Neither of them talk more than necessary, interaction sticking to the bare minimum. It's driving Gordon up the wall, but it's become more of an endurance test. He can't break the silence because Benrey would feel vindicated. Benrey can't break the silence because Gordon would feel vindicated. It feels like a weighted blanket placed directly onto his heartbeat. 

Speaking of the night, Gordon is laying awake in bed. His sheets are pooled around his feet, separated from the blanket due to his thrashing. He's always had nightmares, abstract things that just left him anxious in the morning despite them never lingering in his memory, but now his nightmares are every night. He wakes up in a sweat, staring up at his lumpy popcorn cieling wondering what's wrong with him. 

It is because of Black Mesa. He remembers the feeling of killing people and just-- feeling hardly anything about it. Cracking jokes. It felt normal, and it still does, but is that ok? They were just NPCs, but thinking that makes his mind scramble. He's real, NPCs aren't real, he needs to get over himself. Whatever. 

This is part of the routine. He rises from a nightmare, eyes bloodshot and bags just a bit deeper. He feels over the nightstand for his glasses, finding first a glass of water. He never leaves water for himself, they always appear for him when he needs it, and he drowns it all in one go. He gets up, because his anxiety makes him restless. Then he wanders out of his room, consumed by that dastardly dark, looking down that endless hallway leading to the kitchen. Then he looks at Benrey's room, right across from his, and hesitates. 

On good nights, he huffs and walks off. He goes to the kitchen and makes himself a sandwich, throwing together whatever is in the fridge. The fridge that he himself hasn't stocked in months, yet somehow there's always food inside. The apartment will be cleaner than he left it when he went to sleep. He mounts his anxiety and grounds himself enough to sleep the rest of the night away. He's able to pass Benrey's door without a glance, letting his roommate slip from his mind. 

Then there are bad nights, which are more of them than he likes to admit. Maybe the majority of them, if he's being honest, but being honest with himself has always been a weak point for Gordon. Those nights the shadows in the hall remind him of the wound around his wrist, and it reminds him of the lonely pit that's been growing each day since Black Mesa ended. It reminds him that he isn't really alone, that he's less than twenty feet away from _his_ Benrey. On those nights he steps up, opens his mouth, and noise refuses to come out. The dark invades him and clutches his vocal cords, keeping him from doing anything. Then he goes back into his room, a mess of a man who hasn't felt himself in so long. A pathetic asshole. 

Tonight is bad. He pushes himself to drink the water on his nightstand, his glasses feel like concrete as he lifts them to his face. His eyes twist every shadow into a beast, into the abstract shape of a stern figure with bright blue eyes. His anxiety clears for a moment and he remembers why he's so anxious, that he's filled with the anxiety of _nothing happening._ Something so vital, so intrinsic to who he is, just hasn't happened and now he lives in a world where nothing is right. Then, in that same moment, he loses that memory into the fog of grogginess as he steps outside to continue his ritual. 

Benrey's room, as always a perpetually shut noise-box that fills the apartment with life where there was once a hole. Where Gordon used to be the life of this place, Benrey's presence seems to now occupy. Gordon can feel that his room has gotten colder, recently. 

It's the worst night Gordon's had in... he doesn't remember. The stump where his arm should be throbs, another reminder of the wrongness of everything. He stumbles close to Benrey's door, just an inch closer than he would usually dare. His toes are highlighted by the blue light, flashing as Benrey played. The television plays a quick noise, and Gordon is surprised to recognize it. They're playing Counter Strike. 

Gordon looks down the hall. There he is, standing among the shadows. The figure he sees when he's half out of his mind is always familiar, with the same pressed suit and gangling features as his best friend's father. Mr. Coolatta is a nice man, a fine man, so why does this figure feel different? Sometimes it feels like something is entirely wrong with him, but it fades quickly until it returns just when he forgets about it. Mr. Coolatta, or the thing wearing his skin, stands in the shadows. Now, this one feels different than his other night terrors. He looks odd, with definition that Gordon feels wholly unfamiliar with. He stands out against the textures of his home. Eye contact makes him dizzy, and then dizzier. 

"uhhh sleepyman? hello standing outside my room?" Benrey is suddenly there when he wasn't before, starling Gordon out of his distractions. When he peeks over again, the smallest turn of his head, the Mr. Coolatta of his nightmares is gone. Benrey smacks their lips when Gordon's peek turns into a stare, catching his attention again. "whacha doing?" Benrey tilts their head, peeking out of their room. Their eyes, usually lazing grazing their surroundings with passive nonchalance, instead focus this time on the exact spot that Mr. Coolatta's doppelganger had stood. They stare for just a moment, blinking away their serious expression to look back at Gordon. 

"I- uh. I mean." Gordon stutters, a small ache right under his left eye. "I was just- getting water, or something. I don't know." Gordon presses a hand to his aching eye, groaning. 

"hmmm..." Benrey scans him up and down, lingering for a second on his eye. "you got a headache, sleepman?" They ask, reaching up to scratch their hair. Which, when Gordon looks, feels wrong. Benrey's hair is short and messy, looking freshly washed and definitely not helmet-pressed. Now that Gordon is paying more attention, they smell like Gordon's minty shampoo. 

"I mean, no, I'm fine, man." Gordon lies, taking his hand away from his face. Once the blue-bright light from Benrey's CS:GO match hits his eye, however, it throbs so hard that he full-body flinches. Benrey smacks their lips.

"looks like someones a liar. mr liar coming up with big fibs, huh?" Benrey tilts their head, that false innocent smile making their eyes crinkle. "gordon hurtin' maybe?" Benrey asks, though they don't sound too concerned. 

"I'll just go get some fuckin' Tylenol, okay? Whatever you're trying to do, just." Gordon has to pause, putting his hand back onto his eye. "Just leave me alone." Gordon turns to do just that, but his arm gets caught. Benrey's hand is curled around his forearm, gently tugging him back toward Benrey's room. 

"you were the one to come to my room, idiot. you should be the one to leave _me_ alone." Benrey says, still pulling Gordon into their room. He's not been in here since they moved in, and it feels weird to invade Benrey's space, but he doesn't have a choice. They push him down onto the bed before leaving the room again, and Gordon has the presence of mind to wonder when Benrey got another set of clothes. Looking around the room and seeing a hamper full of clothes makes Gordon wonder when Benrey brought more clothes into the house.

The room is neat. Gordon is slightly thankful for this, because his expectations for Benrey's living conditions had been low. In fact, the room looks nearly identical except for the addition of a 90s-style monitor, consoles neatly placed into the television cabinet, and several stacks of games. The bed isn't made, but Gordon can't say anything because his bed isn't made either. In fact, if he were to judge them at all he'd be hypocritical. Benrey's room is spotless compared to his odor-ridden pig sty. Even the sheets under his hands feel fresh, like some sweaty asshole hasn't been having night terrors in them for the past six months. 

It makes Gordon think about the rest of the apartment. How much work has Benrey been putting in, really? Keeping his room _and_ the rest of the apartment clean? It makes a nasty feeling crawl through Gordon's guts. Christ, is he that pathetic? 

"booo i can hear you thinking from here. knock that out." Benrey says, walking in with two plates. On one, a normal looking ham sandwich. It's got a little lettuce sticking out of the side, even, for that perfect sandwich look. On the other is a monstrosity of spray cheese and pepperoni. Benrey hands over the normal sandwich and keeps their own morally corrupt monster, flopping back on the bed. They sit cross-legged, staring at the television. They got kicked for being AFK, but they weren't even gone that long. 

"Hey, uh. Thanks." Gordon says, eyeing his sandwich. When he finds random food pre-made in the fridge, he doesn't question it. He can pretend that something just... came in and left a nice meal. Having Benrey right beside him, having to acknowledge that he actively eats Benrey's food, is a bit more overwhelming. "You didn't poison this, did you? I wouldn't put it past you to slip a little arsenic in here." Gordon says without thinking, picking up the sandwich. 

"what? no." Benrey's already picked up their controller again, entering a new lobby. "made my bro a sandwich." They say simply, picking up their own sandwich and eating half of it in one bite. It squishes out the other side, some of the nasty cheese getting on their hand, but they use a napkin. 

They sit in silence for a bit. Gordon doesn't muster up the courage to take a bite, just holding the sandwich. His hands get sweaty eventually, weirdly nervous about everything around him, but he doesn't put it down. He already picked it up, he can't just put it down. That would be weird. 

Benrey gets through multiple games, the clock ticking as the night gets darker. When they win they bump Gordon's shoulder, yelling out some nonsense while proclaiming victory. When they lose they also bump Gordon's shoulder, proclaiming victory. They don't fidget while gaming like they do while talking, their energy completely taken up by the game. Gordon's eyelids begin to drop after the second game, so by the sixth he's slumped over nearly asleep. The only thing keeping him awake is the shoulder bumps, which lose effectiveness as Gordon loses the will to keep up. 

It all fades away, eventually. The only thing persisting is the noise of the television, which has turned itself into an anchor throughout Benrey's stay. Even from his room it kept out silence, which Gordon knows would be worse than the dark. Being this close to it, and maybe being close to Benrey as well, only amplifies the calm. 

Gordon is on the bed, between soft clean blankets, in his next memory. He's looking at a different white wall, one not covered in game posters like the ones in his room, but it's pleasant. He kicks off his pajama pants under the covers, letting himself relax. Someone picks up two plates, one empty and the other with an uneaten sandwich, and takes them to the kitchen. 

In the hall there is another showdown. A play at territory that neither of them will give up. Cold, blue eyes from some other place and similarly cold, blue eyes stare. Gordon, asleep in the next room, doesn't see his guard dog win this fight. He doesn't see the entity, the familiar stranger that casts a thousand shadows, bow his control for the night in order for Gordon's Benrey to have another night with him. Another night on top of other another nights, where this game of chicken will continue until a foot has dropped.


	3. Tired

"Uh." Gordon smiles awkwardly as Benrey, sitting on top of the coffee table, stares at him dead-on as he enters the kitchen. He's looking for some caffeine, because despite having his best sleep in weeks his body is still woefully addicted. "Hey, man." Gordon waves awkwardly, as if they haven't been his roommate for nearly two months. 

"yo." Benrey says simply. They turn to the coffee maker, looking at it impassively. "made some coffee." The machine beeps right as they say it, which makes Gordon jump. Why does their weird shit still get to him? He's had plenty of time to get used to it, but they still find ways to get under his skin. 

"Ah, thanks, man." Gordon says, but doesn't step over to the machine. "What are you, uh..." He starts to ask, but loses confidence. 

"huh?" Benrey asks, turning back to Gordon. They make eye-contact, and Gordon realizes how fucking intense their gaze always is. Even when they aren't trying to make any particular expression, it still makes Gordon squirm. They have the kind of face that's perfect for those kind of expressions, even with how round it is. 

"Nothing, it's fine." Gordon waves it off. He flexes one of his hands, which ends up evolving into a flap. It makes a loud sound, his wrist cracking, but his anxiety needs somewhere to go and this is his best bet. Benrey's eyes train on the motion immediately, _damn it_ , which makes Gordon stop in embarrassment. But now his arms are full of pent up anxious energy and-- fuck this sucks. 

"think somethin's wrong, bro." Benrey looks back up. "you still mad at me?" They ask, grabbing a mug from beside them. They pour themself a cup, reaching over the gap between the table and counter rather than getting up. Their t-shirt, plain blue, swallows them and hides their torso. They look naked without their guard uniform.

"What?" Gordon asks dumbly, focused too much on the fact that Benrey is wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Their feet are in socks, socks that have holes in them and look worn. 

"need me to clean out your ears or somthin'?" Benrey sits the cup next to them on the table, on a little coaster. Gordon stares at that for a minute, because he never owned any coasters. When the fuck did Benrey bring coasters into the house?

"I mean, I just don't..." Gordon pauses, looking up at Benrey's face. "I don't know why you're asking? Why would I be mad at you?" Gordon's hand is flapping against his thigh again, but Benrey isn't looking at it so he doesn't bother stopping. They've been living together for months, Gordon really shouldn't be so embarrassed about everything. 

"you seemed mad." Benrey shrugs. "all like... you tried to kill us' and stuff. so." Benrey reaches over and sticks a finger in his hot coffee, hand flinching back at the feeling. That catches Gordon off guard. The only time he remembers Benrey feeling any pain was when he was hit with an actual laser. 

"When we talked?" Gordon asks, scowling. The memory is so distant now, but he knows that depression spirals fuck up his time schedule. "That was like, a month ago, dude. I would've kicked you out by now if I was still seriously mad. I mean, I don't forgive you, but... I'm fine with you now, I guess." Gordon puts on an awkward smile, which only seems to put Benrey off more. They tilt their head to the side, sighing dramatically. They're playing with the fabric of their t-shirt, rubbing it between their thumb and forefinger. 

"you didnt come outta your room for a month, man..." Benrey smacks their lips, eyes off somewhere else. They're lost in thought, Gordon thinks. "boring as hell around here." Benrey rolls their head back, looking up at the ceiling. 

"I was..." Gordon starts, but it drops off. "I was just laying around." He lies, just a little bit. Benrey was there, though. They obviously know that he was totally not 'just laying around,' they were there to keep him alive during that. Gordon feels exhaustion hit him as he realizes this conversation might just keep going. 

"buh." Benrey says, sticking a finger back into his coffee. It's lukewarm now, unlike the coffee still in the pot. They pick it up and tilt their head back, dumping the entire cup into their open mouth. It goes in without a problem, which shouldn't disturb Gordon as much as it does. After all, this is _Benrey._

"Whatever, man." Gordon huffs, turning around. He walks back to his room, bare feet on his carpet. Fuck, even that feels cleaner than before. Did Benrey vacuum? He swings open the door to his room, ready to just lay around again, but he makes eye contact with Benrey the moment he steps in. Gordon does a double-take, looking back down the hall and back at Benrey. They've got another cup of coffee, holding it precariously over Gordon's bed. 

"hey." They say simply. 

"Hey." Gordon looks between the cup and Benrey's face, which is just as impassive as usual. But it also has an edge to it, the intense eye contact from earlier back ten fold. "Don't you fucking dare." Gordon threatens, but knows it won't do anything. Benrey is stubborn as hell all the time. 

"hmmmmm...." Benrey hums tonelessly. "ow my hand." They don't bother putting any inflection on their voice as they up-end the coffee onto Gordon's bed, the steaming liquid taking up the indentation Gordon made in his mattress. 

"Wh-! Dude, what the _hell_ is your problem!" Gordon sputters, breaking eye contact to move to his bed. It's ruined, obviously, and the longer he waits the more it sinks into the mattress itself. "oh, fuck! Benrey help me get the damn sheets off!" Gordon pulls at the sheets, tearing it and the bedding off. The pillows have a small bit on them as well, so they'll also have to go into the wash. 

"slipped." Benrey does nothing to help, standing there holding their empty coffee cup. "oopsie." They say, as if that adds anything. It succeeds in making Gordon just that much angrier, however. 

"Just when I think I'm starting to understand you. Just when I start thinking living here would be _fine..._ " Gordon mumbles to himself, knowing that he's talking out of his ass. Benrey being here is perhaps the only thing that kept him sane during all of this, but Benrey doesn't need to know that. 

"gordon gonna kick me out?" Benrey asks rhetorically, lifing their empty cup to his lips. They make a slurping noise into the empty cup. "gonna make his best friend benrey homeless?" They ask into the cup. Gordon just makes a frustrated noise, pulling all the bedding to his chest and carrying it out to the laundry room. The cooled liquid gets on his shirt, which is fine because he's been wearing it for too long anyways, but it still makes him mad. 

"If you keep doing stuff like this? Fucking maybe!" Gordon yells behind him, shoving the bedding into the washing machine. "Take you to the local- fucking pound!" Gordon says between shoves, anger getting the best of him. He pours detergent on top and closes the lid, leaning on top once it starts. The rumble of the washer helps calm him down, the vibration rhythmic enough to make his nerves settle. 

Benrey takes the moment of calm to take their spot sitting atop the dryer, hands politely settling on their knees. They smack their lips, louder than normal. It's only then that Gordon notices how quiet the rest of the apartment is, how Benrey being out of their room means that the grounding sound of their forever groaning television has stopped. It makes ants crawl up Gordon's spine, instant dread at the lack of stimulation due to a mixture of ADHD and an unknown longing for something. Benrey is right there, but he's gotten used to the game noises as being a reminder of them. Being physically here is almost not the same, even if it is, theoretically, a bigger indication of Benrey's presence. 

"Benrey?" Gordon asks, desperately. 

"hm?" They respond immediately. Gordon turns to look at them, his loose hair falling in curls all around him, frizzed in some parts and greasy in others. Benrey is looking off out the door.

Gordon notices then, as they sit in the soothing noise of the washer, that Benrey doesn't blink. Gordon begins to count seconds, but no matter how high he counts, the blink never comes. 

Gordon doesn't end up asking his question, instead deciding to go eat. It's spur of the moment, driven by that wad of anxiety in his chest, and not dictated by an actual sensation of hunger. He rarely feels hungry until he has food right in front of him, and his brain needs any form of stimulation it can get. He opens the fridge to find an uneaten sandwich, wrapped on a plate for later. Benrey stayed back, Gordon makes sure of that with a quick look over his shoulder, so he feels no shame ripping off the plastic and shoveling it down quickly. 

Something moves behind him. Gordon jumps, choking on the last bit of his sandwich. He doubles over, clutching his chest. He tries to say something, but he's too busy coughing. 

"oh what." Benrey walks over, socked feet making no noise on the cheap tile. They smack Gordon on the back, sending him to his knees. 

"Augh!" Gordon breathes, wheezing. "Don't fucking scare me!" He whips around, prepared to go off on a tirade. He stops short when he sees Benrey holding a pan, wearing an apron. 

"grab the uhh" Benrey pauses, turning around to look at a book. Specifically, a cookbook. Gordon Freeman has never owned a cookbook. "mozzrella." Benrey has a finger under a part of the recipe, bent over the counter just a bit to get a better look. Their face is borderline thoughtful, focused on the words while reading ahead in whatever recipe he's going over. It makes weird feeling sprout up in his head, which makes him want to bury them. He covers his own weird, borderline appreciative expression with an over-dramatic eye-roll. 

"What?" Gordon asks, nose scrunching. "I don't own any mozzarella, Benrey." Gordon turns around to look anyway, already knowing that he's wrong. It isn't like he's been the one going grocery shopping recently. Which, another weird thought to have about Benrey, imagining them studying recipes while standing in their local Save-a-Lot. Would they go to Save-a-Lot, actually? Gordon doesn't know. With minimal effort he finds the cheese, placed neatly into the cheese drawer. Looks like Benrey has been fucking with the entire house, and by he means _organizing._

"How much of my stuff did you go through, Benrey?" Gordon hands over the mozzarella, still staring into the fridge. In his light night excursions he didn't' care about its contents, but getting a good look at it... it actually seems healthy. Not too overstocked, but all the rotten shit he'd left in before the resonance cascade had been thrown out. There seems to be a Gordon half, filled with vegetables, drinks, and lunch mean, and a Benrey half that looks like shit a toddler would pick out if given free range and unlimited budget. 

"cleaned up your fridge. looks like somebody doesnt know how to keep their house clean either." They say, only half focused on the words coming out. They've moved onto shuffling through cabinets, pulling out little odds and ends. Raw chicken sits thawed out on the counter, garlic bulbs and tomatoes sit on a cutting board. There's pasta sauce and a saucepan sitting on the stove, ready to be heated. 

"You can't just go through all my shit without telling me, Benrey. That's not cool." Gordon closes the fridge, watching Benrey shuffle around the kitchen. It reminds Gordon of when he was still with his ex-husband, before he found out about _him_ self, though back then there would be a screaming match to go along with dinner prep. It's domesticity bottled up in his weird alien roommate, his weird enemy who just so happens to be one of his only... _friends?_ Gordon, at this point, has lived so dysfunctionally due to mental illness and circumstance that he doesn't know what to do with this. It was honestly easier shooting aliens. 

"sorry i ruined your uhhh science experiment. that moldy cheese woulda landed you an a plus bro." Benrey goes to season the chicken, tossing on rosemary and garlic. They move again and they're peeling away the crunchy skin of the garlic, picking out little pieces to clumsily chop. 

"No! I guess I should, fuck, thank you for cleaning out the fridge, but I mean. The whole apartment is just... different? You just." Gordon makes a nonsense motion with his hands, hoping that Benrey could get it without words. They look over blankly for a moment, watching his hands move. 

"yeah? i cleaned it. you could say thank you and i would say _your welcome!_ " They put on their best show smile, menacing him. Their eyes crinkle, their teeth show. It transforms their face for just a minute. Then it's back to stoically cooking again, shuffling through the kitchen like they owned it. Which.

"Have you been paying rent?" Gordon asks, suddenly panicked. "What the fuck, Benrey please tell me you understand how to pay rent and that you've been paying it." Gordon steps closer, putting a desperate hand on Benrey's shoulder. It's the most they've touched in... a long time, so when Gordon realizes what he's doing he jerks his hand back. Gordon is a naturally touchy-feely person, always buddy-buddy with everyone, but with the distance between them and the weird, awkward tension just beneath the surface it feels weird to let the touch linger. 

Benrey looks up at his hand, where it is held up in the air like touching Benrey burned him. They don't look away for too long, but they do. They go back to getting dinner ready, looking back at the book. 

"duh i payed rent. not like you were gonna, laying around all the time." 

Gordon feels a pit in his chest. He wants to say something, but he doesn't. What should he say, even? _Sorry?_ Why would he apologize to Benrey, of all people? He does feel bad enough to help cook, though. Even if he doesn't stick around to share the meal.


	4. Perspective

Gordon has been up for, uh, maybe seventeen hours now. 

Benrey stands just at the end of the hall, peeking around at their roommate. They've been keeping a close eye on him, lately. Closer than they did in Black Mesa, sure, but even closer than they had been watching in the first few weeks of 'freedom.' 

Gordon let them live here. He was mostly comatose on his bed for whatever reason, but he hadn't tried once to kick Benrey out. He had even referred to the guest bedroom as Benrey's, a couple times. He avoided Benrey, but it was enough to know that Gordon would let them back into his life. Which, duh, Benrey would have come back no matter what and fucked around with him, but they'd expected something different. Hostility has come in abundance, and hesitation and fear, but true resentment was nowhere to be found. Maybe it was somewhere, but it was never directed at Benrey's person. 

Gordon tossed back the bottle, swigging more pungent smelling whiskey. Benrey has never had alcohol, themself. The smell puts them off, and so does the taste, especially now that they can _actually_ taste. He coughs a bit, which makes Benrey flinch forward in worry, but he settles back down in a slump. 

"Fuuuuuuuck..." Gordon mumbles, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. The bottle lays abandoned on the couch just a bit away, dangerously close to flipping onto its side. It's so empty that it wouldn't spill on the upholstery, thankfully, but that doesn't bode well for Gordon's health. "Benrey?" Gordon asks, still not taking his hands away from his eyes. 

"huh?" Benrey walks up behind him, leering over the couch. Gordon uncovers his eyes in an instant and jumps, scrambling on the cushions and ending up on the floor in a heap. 

"God damn..." Gordon groans, flopped over on his side. He pushes himself onto his back, which seems to take great effort, and glares up at Benrey. "Don't fuckin' scare me, man... give me an attack." Gordon mumbles, then smiles. He laughs at himself for a minute, hand over his chest on the floor. 

"easy to scare ya. just gotta walk and youre scared outta your jeebies." Benrey says, climbing up and sitting on the back of the couch. Gordon looks up at the ceiling, blinking slowly like it's hard to stay awake. 

"You were-- some kinda alien god, or whatever. Course I was gonna be scared!" Gordon's hand comes up to the couch, feeling around for the bottle. It tipped over, the liquid still trapped inside. His hand makes contact with the neck and Gordon drags it down to himself. "You got hawk brain and act like a cock. You- you- you physically like, act up." Gordon pauses several times, trying to catch his bearings. Once he thinks for a moment about what he said he cracks up again, clutching his stomach. 

"somethin funny? funny man, huh? laughing at me?" Benrey leans forward. "big funny bone man laying on the nasty floor laughing at me?" Benrey smiles, and they know their smile always creeps Gordon out but they can't help it. As Gordon laughs again, more mild but still genuine, it makes Benrey feel better. Even though they know Gordon should be sleeping, they like it when Gordon is able to relax around them. When he shows genuine emotion. 

"Shut upppp!" Gordon throws up an arm, hitting Benrey in the shins. "God, you piss me off." Gordon's head falls back on the floor, eyes closed. 

"huh?" Benrey slides down the couch, now right above Gordon. "piss? you some kinda piss freak, kinkman?" Benrey pokes a foot into Gordon's chest. Gordon lets out a loud, whining wheeze. 

"Noooooooo..." Gordon's smiling like a doof. It makes Benrey's chest squeeze uncomfortably. How did Benrey ever get lucky enough to live here and have Gordon be here as well? Benrey sure doesn't know. 

"it might be bed time for you though. maybe we can go get some sleep." Benrey pokes Gordon again. Gordon's eyes open wide again, like he just realize that he was slowly drifting off, and his eyes meet Benrey's. Where Benrey's are black, surrounded by neon blue, Gordon's are so dark that they're almost black. Like unsweetened coffee, like a powered down screen. 

"I'm, haha, I'm just not tired, man. I've only been up for..." Gordon's eyes scramble around the room in search of a clock. "Fuck, I don't know. Not that long, though." Gordon tries to make it seem like it isn't a big deal, pushing himself off the floor. Combining drunkenness and sleep deprivation doesn't bode well, as Gordon's arm slips from under him and sends him thudding against the hardwood. 

"lying is no good. that will get you sent to, i dunno, jail." Benrey stands up, looking down at Gordon. His eyes are locked onto the ceiling now, mouth a tense line. It makes Benrey regret reminding him of his sleeplessness, but he can't just let his bro go without his sleep. That's not cool. 

"Not lying! I've stayed up more than this before. I'm fine." Gordon sits up and falls again. He starts laughing, hysterical and strained. "I'm fine!" He yells between breaths, holding his ribs like laughing hurts. 

Benrey sits on the floor next to him while he's calming down. It takes too long, but Gordon goes quiet. His eyes are closed again, like it's hard to keep them open. Like he barely can keep them open. 

"cmon." Benrey grabs one of his wrists. "lemme take you to bed. cmon. cmon." Benrey tugs, putting on his best nasally nagging voice. That makes Gordon chuckle, a gentle smile on his tired face. He comes off the floor, helped by Benrey pulling him up. 

"I can walk myself, Benrey. I'm good, hoenstly." Gordon's words are slurred, his stance wobbly. "I'm, I can think normally. I'm just uncoordinated. I can deal with this." Gordon slaps a hand to his face, covering up his giggles. "I'm fine!" He insists one last time before he's lost in another giggle fit, leaning his weight entirely on Benrey. 

"youre fine?" Benrey asks. "ok then. here." Benrey pushes Gordon a bit, stepping away but keeping a hand on him. He almost falls immediately. 

"Aw fuck." Gordon leans away, almost falling despite Benrey's grasp. Benrey works himself under one of Gordon's arms, which isn't hard due to their height difference, lugging him back to their rooms. Gordon keeps trying to support himself, but he fails every time. He stumbles even with the support, his eyes half-lidded yet looking around like they expect something. Benrey knows who he expects. 

Benrey doesn't bother with Gordon's room. He took off his sheets to wash them when Benrey spilled coffee on them, and in the few days since he still hasn't put any new ones on. Benrey has been egging him to do it, leaving out clean sheets in places he knows Gordon frequents, but he doesn't. They aren't going to nag him about it, because who actually cares about putting sheets on a bed, but Benrey knows how icky it feels to sleep without them. And they've gotten very familiar with said sensations, over the past few months. They've received a lot of new feelings in these past few months, actually. 

One of these new feelings comes when Benrey lays Gordon down on his bed, pulling the blankets around him. His hair is greasy, his last shower being a couple days back. His skin is oily, a few spots of acne flaring up due to infrequent care. His eyes are still searching, but he's quickly losing a battle against slumber. The feeling, as Benrey can describe it only in vague terms, is protectiveness. There are a lot of facets to this emotion, even if it may come off as hypocritical when taking into account previous actions. 

Gordon settles in with a look of defeated anguish, lamenting sleep. Benrey can only be lucky that they aren't the center-point of these nightmares, though they often play a starring role. This is the first facet of the protectiveness. An often overwhelming feeling of guilt, though they know they can't truly be sorry for their actions. Regret and guilt, yes, but being sorry means that you wouldn't repeat those actions under the same circumstance. They know that, given their place in Black Mesa, they would probably end up doing it again, same as before. They are the coded villain, the person that Gordon sees as the Big Bad Evil. They fill whatever role the main character sees fit, so they would do it again. Is it a choice that they made? Sure, maybe, possibly, who actually knows. They feel like they have to keep him safe, to mend what they did. 

They take a small chance, reaching out and tucking a lock of hair out of Gordon's face. They take his glasses off, laying them folded on their nightstand. 

"dumb-dumb was gonna sleep in his glasses." Benrey mutters. Gordon's eyes lazily travel to them, confused. 

"Why am I in your room?" Gordon asks. Benrey has to take a deep breath, which is also one of those new sensations. 

"'cause i carried you in here? duh." Benrey snarks, walking off to turn off their light. Their room is on the outside of the building, so cool blue moonlight encases them. Benrey takes a sidelong glance at Gordon, meeting his eyes. Benrey feels his heart skip. 

"No, I mean why. Not how." Gordon huffs out a small laugh, a tired smile on his face. Benrey walks over to the television, turning on his PlayStation. Benrey hums into the quiet room as his PlayStation whirs to life. 

"maybe you just wandered in here." Benrey grabs a controller and sits on the end of the bed. "maybe i should be asking you why youre in here, huh? intruding is illegal. this is personal space." Benrey loads up Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 2, flicking his analog sticks as he waits for the game to really start. 

"God, c'mon, stop talking bullshit." Gordon weakly punches Benrey's back. The feeling of being touched is so weird. Nobody really touches Benrey except for Gordon. Even Tommy, their best bro in the world, keeps his distance. Benrey typically doesn't even like being touched, the feeling too new and weird, but Gordon's touch is warmer. Maybe that's their stupid brain being wired wrong. 

"bluh bluh blu, benrey, bluh bluh bluh." Benrey mocks, sending Tony Hawk flying within ten seconds of starting a level. Nice. 

"You're a dick." Gordon snorts, pushing himself up. He leans forward and squints at the game, watching Benrey spasm inside of a rail. "How the fuck do you even do that? When did you get an actual PlayStation in here?" Gordon asks, taking his spot next to Benrey. 

"i just do." Benrey says, escaping the spasm but launching Tony onto a roof. 

"Here, let me try." Gordon makes a grab for his controller, which Benrey artfully dodges. They also put an elbow into Gordon's face. 

"no its bedtime for you. catch a couple zs." Benrey fights back and Gordon stretches around them, still trying for the controller. He's crawled half-way onto Benrey, despite the elbow dragging across his cheek. "man its my game! leave me alone!" Benrey smiles, putting a little more force behind their elbow. 

"I just want to play!" Gordon pushes up and grabs for the controller, his large wingspan nearly netting it for him. Benrey pushes themself closer to the edge of the bed, cackling as Gordon struggles. "This is stupid! I just want to try!" Gordon pleads, pushing himself up. He reaches out again for the controller, but Benrey spits on him. He recoils, looking amused but also disgusted, and looks back down at Benrey. 

He's hovering over them, one arm above their shoulder with the other braced against their other. Benrey realizes what pose they're both in, the dumb one where the hero trips and looms over the heroine, but they don't care. It is nice, being this close to him, but Benrey doesn't want to overreact and scare him off. They know he needs sleep, but they also enjoyed this. They started leaving the room more for just this kind of thing, after Gordon said he wasn't mad at them.. Attention. It's enthralling, even if Gordon smells like B.O. most of the time. 

But Gordon realizes at the same moment how they're posed. Benrey is reaching with one arm way over their head, controller dangling over the floor. Their other arm is on Gordon's chest where it had been pushing him away. One of Gordon's legs is between theirs. Gordon's eyes trail a bit down Benrey, looking at their neck then their chest then to their legs, before his face scrunches in confusion and... disgust, Benrey decides. They'll label that one _disgust_.

"Sorry." Gordon offers meekly as he sits up on his knees, waddling backwards on the bed. He goes a bit too far, teetering on the edge, but Benrey sits up and grabs his shirt. "Fuck. I should go to bed." Gordon pointedly looks anywhere but Benrey's face, defeat back into his eyes as he makes himself stable on the bed again. Benrey lets go of his shirt, letting him crawl back under the covers. 

"clumsy." Benrey whispers, still turned towards Gordon's figure under the covers. Gordon doesn't respond, likely pretending to be asleep. They turn back to the game, glitching Tony through a window this time. Their fingers move without feeling, now. It's not as fun when you're bummed out. 

Another facet of that protectiveness thing, it turns out, is harder to explain. There is a growing need within Benrey to care for Gordon. To protect him from himself, if that makes sense. He's a grown man, he can take care of himself fine when he tries, but the satisfaction of knowing that Gordon is somewhere safe and well fed is unlike any feeling they've ever felt before. This feeling has wrapped up all their other friends, as well. Speaking of other friends...

Benrey pulls out their phone.

Tommy: Hey, Benrey! Are you awake?

Tommy: Aw, guess not.:( Message me when you're available!

benry: yo

Tommy: Hi!:) How was your day?

benry: bluh

benry: lame

Tommy: :( 

Tommy: Why lame?

benry: lameo feetman was putting off his beddy byes

Tommy: Oh, is he still having trouble sleeping?

benry: yeah

Tommy: I wish Mr. Freeman was feeling ok.:( Even my dad is worried about him!

At the mention of Tommy's dad, Benrey peeks over at the door to their bedroom. In three hours, a man not much unlike Tommy's father would be standing on the other side. Gordon would be stirred from sleep, which he desperately needs, and be pulled toward this mysterious stranger. To Gordon, this man is a nightmare, a figure who is beckoning him and giving him feelings of hollowness and unfulfillment. To Benrey, this man is annoying, but not so mysterious. 

Tommy's father isn't worried for Gordon for no reason. He probably cares that Gordon isn't getting enough sleep, but he also has an idea of what's happening. An entity from somewhere else is trying to pull Gordon Freeman away, but Benrey won't have it. Unlike Mr. Coolatta, however, this entity is much more persistent. More dangerous. 

Like every night, Benrey is prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quietly changes this to use the homestuck skin


	5. Closer, Closer, Closer

The nightmares are getting worse. Each night the hallway is shorter, the mysterious man in the navy suit a step closer each night. Gordon's routine has fallen into shambles, paranoia about sleep clouding his ability to keep himself afloat. He feels it pulling against his skin, and that yawning void within him grows ever closer to sucking up his psyche. There is something missing, says the void. There is something that Gordon Freeman must be doing. It only gets harder to stay himself, the feeling of his persona shattering as he loses the battle with exhaustion. 

That is, until Benrey decides to start leaving their room. It starts with a late-night cooking session, in which Gordon avoids taking the food when Benrey is awake. It still feels weird, but he doesn't exactly know if he should be competing with Benrey anymore. It feels like their weird game of one-upsmanship from Black Mesa is still in effect. Benrey still tries to get on Gordon's nerves, Gordon still tries to keep Benrey in check. Maybe he's also started getting onto Benrey too, riling them up the same way Benrey tries on him. They stop being a hermit and spend time outside, mostly sitting in the kitchen or living room. 

It sets Gordon on edge, for a while. He sits straighter and talks more stiltedly, unsure of how to approach this. Benrey has taken the initiative of their relationship every step of the way, so far. Even in Black Mesa Gordon had no say in how Benrey perceived their connection. For Gordon, it was always certain that the two of them would be enemies forever. But Benrey would insist on their friendship, bringing them closer together even after the loss of Gordon's arm. Then Benrey comes back and worms their way into his home, flinging to the wind the notion that Gordon ever hated them in the first place. But, wait, okay forget that last bit. Gordon definitely hates them a lot. 

Gordon has been sinking hours into games. It's unhealthy. He vegetates in his room, now hesitant to spend time outside of his room. He isn't scared of Benrey, no why would he _ever_ be scared of them, but he's... hesitant. The more time he spends out there the more time he has to deal with Benrey, which makes all these weird feelings inside of him stir up even more. Feelings which actually, now that he thinks about it, don't exist. 

He's flicking his thumb over the joystick, watching listlessly as his soldier moves on to the next kill. Fuck Benrey, Gordon thinks belatedly. Fuck Benrey and fuck everything. He has everything he needs in CoD, thank you. His soldier releases and Air Strike, which makes Benrey's obnoxious voice echo the line into his head. _Air Strike_ in that stupidly obnoxious voice they love to put on. He can hear it vividly. 

Gordon contemplates when his character gets killed. He has those few seconds before respawn to think about it. But he really doesn't want to. His eyes flick to his phone, social media just a swipe away. He's at such a low point that he considers getting on Reddit again. Just when he flinches over to grab his phone, his character respawning at the same time, there is a knock at Gordon's door. 

"Hwuh?" Is all he can say, his soldier being slaughtered on screen. Distractions and gaming don't mix. Benrey opens the door, like physically uses a hand to turn the knob and push it open like a normal person, and sticks their head in. That already has Gordon discombobulated. 

"what are you doing." Benrey's questions always sound like statements. They have no fluctuation, though Gordon suspects that to be on purpose. Just to fuck with him, Benrey knows common English etiquette just to mess it up and make things harder. 

"'m playing games, man. Leave me alone." Gordon bitches, turning back to the game. His character is back on screen, respawned again and ready for battle. 

"playing cod?" Benrey asks, stepping beyond Gordon's door. They've never been in his room to cause anything but trouble, so that makes Gordon bristle, but what makes Gordon pissed is Benrey sitting right beside of him. "booo you stink." Benrey is criss-cross on the floor, looking up at the screen. 

"God- shut up, man. I'm a bit out of practice." Gordon huffs. His frustration only makes him clumsier, trying to puff himself up in front of Benrey. 

"dont fuck up." Benrey eggs him on, which makes Gordon huff and lean forward in his seat. Benrey also leans forward, their shit-eating smile taking up too much of Gordon's headspace. "your thumb is supposed to go on the joystick, idiot. need benny to teach you how to play games? need me to be your tutor, huh?" Benrey teases. Gordon rolls his eyes and squints at the game. He gets killed again, and that's match, and his team lost. 

"Fucking- did you see that guy with the shit wifi? He was blipping around the map and making _everyone_ lag. How was I supposed to win." Gordon tosses his controller to the side, leaning back in his beanbag chair. The stupid thing is overused and deflated, which makes the action unsatisfying. The back of the thing doesn't even hold him up anymore. 

"scrubquoting?" Benrey side-eyes Gordon, amused at his misery. "gonna cry?" Benrey chuckles. How do they always find a way to sound villainous? Gordon picks up the controller and tosses it in their lap. 

" _You_ try to do better then, asshole." Gordon sneers, putting on his smuggest smile. Benrey meets his gaze impassively, picking up the controller. Without a word they start up a new match. They hit the queue and enter a game within a few minutes, the two of them awkwardly sitting watching the load screen. Once the team is selected, kids shouting into their mics to get as much attention as possible, Benrey starts the match sprinting. 

They're doing fine. They've obviously spent a lot of time playing games, which Gordon shouldn't be surprised about because he _knows_ they spend hours a day playing them. It makes him mad, though. How dare they do well when he lost. Fuck Benrey. Fuck this. 

"Don't fuck up." Gordon nudges their shoulder with his knee. Benrey tenses at the contact, looking over at worst moment. Their character falls to the ground, dead. 

"what the hell, man. ruined my killstreak." Benrey grumbles, but Gordon's laughing. They sound put-out, like they dropped their ice cream on the sidewalk. 

"Awww, scrubquoting?" Gordon nudges them again. "Gonna cry? Need me to coach you?" Gordon smiles as they pout, a rare expression gracing their face. 

"leave me alooone." Benrey leans away from him. He's _still_ doing better than Gordon did, so he decides to ramp it up. Gordon pushes himself to the floor next to Benrey, leaning closer and watching the screen intensely. 

"There's a guy over there." Gordon points somewhere random. "Hold on, I think I heard something, go that way. Wait, no, I think it was actually this way. No, go back I think I saw some ammo. Hold on, I think there's a sniper close-by." Gordon begins rambling, waving his finger to random parts of the screen. He has his other hand on Benrey's shoulder, shaking him a bit to get more attention diverted. 

"this isnt _fair..._ " Benrey whines, his character dead. "video game freeman here to kill me so many times." Benrey is still focused on the screen, but their eyes flick to the hand on their shoulder. 

"Video game Freeman?" Gordon barks out a laugh, squeezing Benrey's shoulder. "Can you really not think of anything else? Are you running out of insults?" Gordon leans back against his beanbag chair and watches Benrey play. Their character skitters as Benrey fucks up inputs. 

"no, im trying to- uh- think hard. gaming brain." Benrey says simply. 

"Whatever, man." Gordon smiles. He leans back, relaxing. The hand on Benrey's shoulder is a better distraction than anything Gordon said, if performance is anything to go by. They die more times in the last half than the first, but their team still wins. Benrey turns to him when they do win, smug grin back in place. 

"WINNER!" They shout. Gordon flinches back, yelling in surprise and choking out laughter. He ends up on his side, clutching his stomach. 

"Fuck!" He says between laughs. Benrey is still just looking at him. When he composes himself a bit, he notices a bit of color on their cheeks. Then he ignores it, and in a second it's gone, so it didn't matter anyway. He sits back up, groaning. 

They sit there for a moment as Gordon catches his breath. These moments are the best in the apartment. Right after they play-fight, right before they both fall silent again. Benrey has slowly been eroding on Gordon's walls, chipping away at his awkwardness. It feels close to breaking. 

"I have a second controller." Gordon doesn't wait for an answer before pulling it out, passing it over to Benrey. "Fighting games or more CoD?" Gordon asks, tossing the bright orange transparent monster Benrey's way. Gordon keeps the good controller to himself. 

"ill kick your ass at street fighter." Benrey plugs the controller in as Gordon grabs the game. 

Maybe part of the erosion of Gordon's barriers was in his new sleeping arrangement. Of course, he doesn't like to think about it in his waking hours, but every night he finds himself retiring in the guest bedroom. After that first night sleeping there it felt more natural. Gordon thinks to himself that it's the cleaner sheets and window, but a subconscious part of himself feels better when someone else is there. 

Benrey takes to the routine like nothing has changed, but Gordon can see the subtle hints that say how pleased Benrey is about it. Gordon tests them, a couple times. He goes into his own room late at night, turning off the lights and pretending to sleep. He's really just 'charging his phone' (that's what he tells Benrey he was doing, at least). Benrey wanders Gordon's door on these nights, hesitating just outside. Gordon knows because he can see the shadows that their feet cast under the door. That makes Gordon wonder if Benrey knew he would hesitate outside of their door, as well. That makes his stomach stir. Beyond the first test he does it only a few more times, just to see if they'd do it again. And one more time, maybe, just to make sure they really want him in his room. When Gordon inevitably walks out of his room, Benrey is standing there looking passive. 

Benrey sits on the end of the bed, right next to Gordon's feet. When Gordon is settling in for the night, he focuses on what he can see of Benrey's mannerisms. Being in a life-or-death situation doesn't give you the best understanding of someone. 

They shift from side to side when a particularly intense gameplay moment happens. They lean forward when a cut-scene is happening, entranced, but lean back when the game starts again. They always gravitate to large, body-hiding sweatshirts or hoodies. They always wear dark colored sweats. Despite Gordon suspecting that they leave the apartment at night to stock the fridge, he has yet to catch them even when he tries to stay up all night. When they do sneak off, Gordon can hear them tinkering in the kitchen. 

It's the third week of sharing a room. Gordon's smell has started to linger on the bed more than Benrey's. They have yet to lay down with him, though Gordon doesn't expect them to. They don't seem to need sleep at all. They're sitting in their usual position, facing the television, and Gordon's eyes are half-lidded. He's been watching them play Team Fortress 2. Tonight they're actually chatting with their team, something they rarely do. Gordon, so far, hasn't been latching onto what they're saying, but the smooth sound of Benrey's voice is making him sleepier. 

"hey" Benrey's saying, head turning just a bit. Gordon is so tired that it doesn't register, so Benrey reaches over and shakes Gordon's leg. "hey. hey sleepy." Benrey insists. 

"Wh-hmmm..." Gordon's voice is rough. He was so close to falling asleep. "What?" Gordon mumbles, pushing himself up. Benrey's back to looking at the game. 

"tommy wants to know if he can come over." Benrey says. He's playing Pyro, which Gordon isn't surprised by at all. He's skirting around the map barely doing any damage. Gordon would hate to play with him.

"Sure." Gordon mumbles. "Issat all?" Gordon slurs, yawning. After these few weeks of mostly-good sleep, being interrupted sucks _ass._

"cool." 

In the middle of the night, after Gordon is mostly asleep, Benrey lays down beside him. The game is still going, the perfect white noise for them both. Benrey had always had trouble sleeping when everything was quiet, as well. It reminded him of silent predators, an instinctual fear that has remained even as he becomes more used to living more humanly. 

Gordon is able to feel the bed dip, but he doesn't wake. He just becomes conscious of the moving mattress, somewhere deep in his mind aware that he is now laying next to Benrey. They are looking at him, addressing him in his vulnerable state. He feels a twinge of fear, but otherwise stays calm. Benrey lays there, and syncs their breathing to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we see relationship development...... 
> 
> writing romance is hard but we're doing this. also the next chapter is going to be. a bit Longer haha.


End file.
